


Turning Inwards

by Signe_chan



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Internalized Homophobia, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-13 11:11:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1224109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Signe_chan/pseuds/Signe_chan
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Clint is not gay. He can't be gay because he doesn't act gay or look gay. And is sometimes the hand down his trousers belongs to another man that's just a physical thing and definitely doesn't mean he's gay.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> Somewhat based on and inspired by that tumblr post going around about Steve being really liberal on social media. 
> 
> WARNING: Clint says some rather derogatory things about gay people becasue he's a bundle of issues. There is internalized homophobia in this fic. It does get better but this is your trigger warning. 
> 
> Thanks to Trojie for beta reading, as always, becasue she is awesome.

"What the fuck are you doing?" Clint asked, jerking backwards. Coulson just blinked at him, clearly thrown by the question, and then gave him a puzzled look like Clint was the one who was being weird here. Fuck that, he wasn't being weird.

"I was going to kiss you," Coulson said, his eyes drifting to Clint's lips as he said it like he was thinking he might just try to kiss Clint again and, no, they had to put a stop to that.

"I don't kiss men," he said, pursing his lips. "That's really gay."

"Clint, I have my hand on your cock," Coulson said in that weird patient voice he had. Clint normally didn't get that voice used on him. He knew it normally meant 'you're too stupid to talk to but I don't have a choice so let me explain you a thing'. He looked down to where Coulson was straddling his hips, his hand wrapped around Clint's cock, his own cock sticking out of his trousers.

"Yeah, but that's not gay," Clint protested, reaching out to wrap his own hand around Coulson's cock to make his point. "This, this is just physical shit. A warm hand in the night, right? Anyone would do. It's just an itch and I could take care of it myself but you're here and I'm here and someone else's hand is better than your own. It's not gay. It's not like I love you or anything."

Coulson didn't say anything for a long minute and Clint kind of wanted to look up to see what was happening on his face but he kind of didn't either. He got the feeling that if he did he was going to have to get up and walk away and he was really hard right now.

But then Coulson's hand was tightening on him again and getting back to the rhythm it'd set before and Coulson whispered "Yeah, you're right," into his ear and, hell yeah he was right. He was always right. Just because he took a little physical comfort didn't mean he was gay, he didn't know why Coulson would even think to mention that. He didn't look gay. Didn't act gay. He hoped to hell he didn't act gay.

And then he didn't think about anything for a while because Coulson was good at what he did.


	2. Chaper 1

Clint thought Steve's Twitter account was hilarious. He took so much time on the thing and it took him so long to do everything. He was getting better at it every day but when he'd first started and he'd had to stop and hunt for each letter it'd been hilarious.

The content was pretty good too. Tony had showed him how to use it and since Tony mainly used his Twitter for ill timed comments that the news wrung their hands over and flirting with his fan base Clint would have expected Steve's to be something similar only more tasteful. You know, a few sweet comments to a few fans. Some occasional fluff about how such a bad thing was a tragedy or such a good thing was a miracle.

Looking back, he hadn't known Steve all that well then or he'd have been able to work out for himself how wrong he was. Steve wasn't a quiet, crowd pleasing guy. He was more stubborn than Stark with an iron clad sense of what was right and what was wrong and he was never afraid to speak his mind.

He found the political side of Twitter. The political side of Twitter found him. It was love at first tweet.

Clint got a lot of amusement from logging on and seeing what cause Steve had taken up today. He was normally pretty big on supporting veterans and on children and childhood illness. He'd once crowd-sourced a new building and a team of workers to do it up for a care home for severely abused children in Iowa that was threatened with closure. He'd flown down to help with the building work himself and it'd made the cover of Time Magazine.

When Clint had seen that cover he'd almost doubled over laughing. Once he was coherent enough to think anything but oh my god he'd wanted to take it to show Coulson. Coulson would have loved it. He even got a few steps in the direction of Coulson's office before he remembered that if he went there he'd only find Agent Green. Because Coulson wasn't in that office anymore. Coulson wasn't anywhere.

And that didn't bother him. Not really. A little, of course. Coulson was a friend, sure. But he didn't feel like someone punched him every time he thought about Coulson. Definitely not.

He threw the damn magazine away and went and requested an op to get away for a few weeks. Fury gave him one, Fury had become oddly accommodating to him since... 

It turned out to be a massive clusterfuck and by the time he was back on US soil the magazine was off the news stands and he didn't have to think about it any more.

But he still liked to start his day by seeing what Steve had been up to the evening before on Twitter. It was fun to watch and even more fun when the conservative news channels started hand-wringing over it and how this symbol of American virtue had been corrupted by the modern liberal lifestyle. Steve's responses to them were always hilarious.

He should have known the day was going to be shit when he rolled out of bed and found out that during the night Steve had told the world via Twitter he was bisexual. Which was clearly some crazy-ass shit right there because Steve was the straightest guy he knew. Still, there it was in 180 characters or less.

@therealsteverogers: Been watching news coverage about attacks on homosexuals in Russia. This has to stop! All people deserve respect! End hatred!  
@danniboi02030: @therealsteverogers Thank you! Having an American Icon like you come out in support of gay rights really means a lot.  
@therealsteverogers: .@danniboi02030 I'm glad I could help you. I can't imagine how much it would have helped me growing up in brooklyn if I'd seen men like myself speaking out.  
@therealsteverogers: re that last tweet, I'm bisexual. I've never tried to hide it, it's just nobody ever asked before.

Clint wanted to laugh at the tweet, he really did. It was just like Steve to try to help however he could. Probably thought it wouldn't hurt anyone. After all, he could be bisexual but just happen to only date women, right? And he still got to stand with the oppressed group. It wasn't like anyone would ever really believe Steve was gay anyway. He wasn't some limp wristed queer.

The thing was, he couldn't quite manage the laugh as, as he scrolled down, his entire feed was flooded with people congratulating Steve on coming out. People who took it seriously.

What the hell?

He closed his phone and headed for the bathroom. He couldn't think about this ridiculous thing right now. He had stuff to do that had nothing to do with Steve Rogers’ sexuality. The man was straight, Clint knew it.

The thing was, he realised as the day went on, nobody else knew it. Over breakfast Tony actually patted Steve on the back and congratulated him on coming out. Steve acted like it was nothing, like he came out every day. Everywhere Clint went that day it was all anyone could talk about. He went into S.H.I.E.L.D. and not even any of them were doubting it. They were meant to be intelligent.

By the time he left for the tower he was just about ready to request an assignment somewhere peaceful like Syria until the world got back it being the right way up.

Steve Rogers was not gay. He knew gay and Steve wasn't it. He'd lived on the streets at one point, he'd seen plenty of queers. Guys dressed like girls simpering after other simpering guys. Guys with wrists so fucking limp he was surprised they didn't snap right off. Guys with makeup and lisps. Fags. He knew what happened to fags out there, knew it was about the worst thing you could be right down to his gut in the same way he knew his own value was in his bow skills. He wouldn't have been gay for anything.

Why Steve was lying he didn't know. Why everyone else was going along with it he got even less.

When he got back to the tower he headed straight to his apartment. Normally they all got together every evening. Or, well, they hung out up there when there was time. Tonight he didn't feel like talking to anyone so he headed straight for his own space.

Of course, Natasha was there waiting for him. Curled up on his couch with a book she must have brought down herself. He sighed, dumped his kit by the door and went to sprawl out next to her.

"You hiding out here, too?" he asked, kicking at the book. She grabbed his foot and squeezed it so tight he'd be afraid she wanted to break a bone if he didn't know she wouldn't do that - it'd only be more mess and stress for her if he was incapacitated.

"Stark's being himself again. I needed some air."

He doesn't ask why she didn't go to her place to get away from Stark. He learnt long ago not to question Natasha too much. She did what she liked going by her own rules and it normally worked out okay for them.

"It wasn't the Steve thing?" he asked. She gave him the strangest look like she didn't have any idea what he was talking about. "I mean, his saying he's queer."

"I have no issue with Steve's sexuality," she said, her tone icy, and what the fuck had he done now?

"Neither do I," he said quickly, holding his hands up in surrender. "It's just weird is all. I mean, Steve's straight."

"He quite clearly isn't," Natasha said with an eye roll.

"But he is," Clint protests. "I mean, come on Nat, the guy doesn't look like a fairy."

He got a definite disgusted look then and, fuck everything, he knew he wasn't meant to talk like this. He had sat through S.H.I.E.L.D. sensitivity training thank you very much, but he'd thought everyone ignored it. Natasha was street smart like him, not like the idiots who run those courses. He'd have thought she'd know how life really is.

"You really think Steve can't be gay because he's, what, a big muscled man?" she asked, her tone clearly implying that only an idiot would believe that.

"Not just the muscles," Clint said, waving his hand in frustration. He knew some gays went in for that. Something about leather, he didn't pay that much attention. "He's just...he's a guy, you know. A normal guy. He's not gay."

"Are you damaged?" she snapped, clearly done with him. "He's just...you know what, it isn't my job to spell things out for you. I'm going somewhere else."

"Hey, no," he said, making a panicked grab for her. "I didn't...I won't say anything else."

"I don't even want to look at you right now," she snapped, slipping away like she always did. He watched her go, gaping. He wasn't sure how he'd messed everything up to much, he just wished he could take it all back.

***

The next morning Steve was still apparently bisexual and Natasha still wanted to skin him. They went through three days of that before they got a call out. He was pretty glad for it when it came. At least it made Nat talk to him, if only to shout commands. None of the others had figured out what they were fighting about. He'd been careful to keep his opinions to himself since Nat had fallen out with him. Clearly he'd got something wrong here.

When he wasn't taking out his frustration by shooting things, he kept his eyes on Steve. Steve still fought like he always had. Clint wasn't sure why he'd expected it to change. Just this niggling voice in the back of his head, the one that sounded a lot like his brother, informing him faggots couldn't fight and that's why they got beaten up so damn much. They deserved it. They were weak and Clint wasn't anything like them. Nothing at all like them.

They managed to stop an army of killer robots (always with the robots) pretty quickly. Possibly a new record. Not that they kept records. He bet Coulson would have kept records, if he was still alive. And there was the not-pain again. Not pain because he didn't miss Coulson that much at all.

He wasn't surprised when he let himself down from the building to find Steve chatting with a blushing fan. Steve normally stood around and reassured people after a battle. He was good with people, unlike the rest of them. The guy, he was maybe mid-twenties. Close to the age Steve looked. Steve was smiling at whatever the guy was saying and Clint found himself moving in closer. He didn't mean to eavesdrop, he was just curious.

"So, I'll meet you here tomorrow at 2?"

"That'd be great," the other guy said, grinning. Clint raised an eyebrow. He wasn't sure what Steve would be doing meeting this guy. Was he law enforcement or a reporter or something?

"I'd better get your number," Steve said, and he sounded almost shy. That was weird. "I mean, something might happen and I might need to call you. Would that...would that be alright?"

"Of course," the other guy said, a little too fast. He reached into his pocket nervously and didn't find anything and for some reason both of them blushed a little and smiled. No paper. The guy took his phone out hesitantly. "I don't...maybe I could get your number and I'll text you?"

"I'd like that," Steve said, giving his biggest grin. The phone changed hands as Steve put his number in and then was passed back. The entire exchange just didn't make any sense. They seemed almost giddy, not business-like at all. Not like he was used to Steve being.

"Alright," the guy said, slipping his phone back into his pocket. "I'll see you here tomorrow."

"It's a date," Steve said with that stupid grin and oh god, Clint was such an idiot. He hadn't thought...the other guy didn't look gay. They hadn't looked like two gay guys, not at all. He looked sensible, mature. Nothing like the people Clint was used to thinking of as gay. But...but he was going on a date with Steve.

Maybe he meant as friends. Maybe he didn't mean it like that. Clint hung onto the hope as Steve made his way back over but when he blushingly told Tony that, yeah, he had given his number to that cute guy and they were going on a date tomorrow...

He didn't know what to think. Couldn't think of a damn thing to say so he kept his head down and his hands busy. This was...it couldn't be right. He'd been so sure he was in the right here. So sure how knew how shit works. He always had. Maybe he still did. Maybe this was just a physical thing. He'd had physical things with men, didn't mean anything. Never meant anything.

He spent the ride back to the tower in silence. He thought he caught Nat giving him a pitying look but he didn't meet her eye to check.

He also didn't object when she followed him after the debrief, sticking close until they were behind closed doors then making herself at home in his space, getting herself a drink from his kitchen and sprawling out on his couch. He could only watch her. He felt...he wasn't sure what he felt. Lost. Like he'd been trying not to think about this for an age and now he'd had it shoved in his face.

"Do you see why I was angry at you now?" she asked from the couch. "Anyone can be gay."

"They can't," he said, the words defensive. "I...There's nothing wrong with being gay, I know that. To each their own but it's not...Steve can't be. He just can't be."

"You watched him pick up a guy," she said, frustration seeping into her voice. "I watched you watch. What's that if not gay? Well, bisexual."

"It's just...he can't mean it. He's probably just..."

"If you finish that sentence with confused I'm going to break your neck," Natasha interrupted. "He's new to being open about it, yes, but have you ever known Steve to be anything other than 100% sure?"

"He's young," Clint said, as though that changed anything.

"What about Coulson, then?" Nat asked. He turned away they. Fuck, why did she mention him. She knew he didn't talk about Coulson. Didn't think about Coulson.

"What about him?" he managed finally, staring at his book case. It looked kind of pitiful, kind of bare. The one he had in his own place had been smaller but everything was bigger here. The one he had in his own place has also had all the shit that Coulson had given him on it. Those things were in a box under his bed now. He couldn't look at them.

"Clint," she said, and her voice had somehow got mixed up with pity. "You do know Coulson was gay?"

"He wasn't," Clint defended instantly because of course he wasn't.

"I thought you know," she said. "I thought...well, I always thought there was something between the two of you but Coulson always insisted you were just friends."

"We were," Clint said defensively. "Just friends. I mean, we jerked each other off a few times but that wasn't gay. It's not like we kissed or held hands on talked about feelings or anything." It wasn't like he'd wanted any of those things. It's wasn't like he sometimes looked at Coulson and just wanted to lean in and kiss him. It wasn't like sometimes their hands brushed by accident in the corridor and he let himself pretend it was intentional because they wanted to touch each other. It wasn't like Coulson was one of the very few people he could actually talk to about what the hell was going on inside his head.

"Oh Clint," she said, and then she was there hugging him and fuck, when had he started crying? He shouldn't be crying because it was all fine. He was fine. He wasn't gay. Couldn't be gay because he was strong and brave.

But Steve was bisexual. Steve liked guys. Steve was going on a date with a guy and if Captain America could be a little bit gay then maybe he could be a little bit gay too. Maybe it was alright, just a little bit. Maybe wanting Coulson so much, missing him so much, wasn't so bad.

"I think I loved him," he said, the words somehow choked with tears but when they came out he knew they were right. It hadn't just been physical. Really, the sex had been the least of it. His thing was Coulson had been everything to him. He was an idiot.

"I know you did," she said simply, as though it was something obvious and not something that was shaking his work apart. "And he loved you too."


	3. Chapter 2

Clint was used to weathering big changes. He’d done it before. His entire life had been a series of revelations and upheavals and he’d kind of expected the sexuality thing to be one of them. He’d woken up the morning after having a break-down the likes of which he hadn’t had in over a decade (and Nat smugly informed him she’d been waiting for) convinced that somehow his life was fundamentally altered. After all, he was queer. Or bisexual or whatever. He loved a man. Surely that changed something. 

Nothing changed. 

Nat took her sweet little self off and they didn’t talk about it again. Apparently he’d done what she thought he had to do and now she was on to other things. He thought about telling the others but really, what was the point? It wasn’t like they all sat around in the lounge exchanging personal information and braiding each other’s hair. What would he say? So guys, I’ve been kind of repressing my sexuality for forever because I’m a bit fucked up but it turns out I’m bisexual and I’m in love with a man but it doesn’t matter because he’s dead. 

There was literally no point in telling anyone so he didn’t. There was nothing he could do, Coulson was already dead, so he did nothing. 

He’d kind of expected that, well, after all the shit he’d been through his thought patterns would change. He was queer. He got that. And he got that it didn’t make him some kind of limp wristed girl (and damn but Nat would beat the shit out of him for using the term girl in a less than positive way). It didn’t stop the thoughts. Didn’t stop the voice in the back of his head that insisted he was a weak idiot for wanting men. Didn’t stop him thinking disparaging things when he saw Steve with his boyfriend or any other gay guy. It just meant it kind of hurt more that he couldn’t get that shut off. 

He read a lot. Went on the internet and read all these websites. Watched like a million videos on the Trevor project not so much for the message (he knew life didn’t get better. Life was just a meaningless collection of events and most of them sucked) as to see the faces of queer people. To finally beat it out of himself that you had to be a certain way to be gay. 

He spent an eventful evening watching gay porn but the idea of a guy sticking his dick in Clint’s ass? Nothing doing. He even tried thinking about Coulson doing it but all he managed to do was make himself sad since Coulson’d probably be awesome and make this entire ordeal more bearable and he wasn’t here. 

He went out to a gay bar once. He’d meant to pick someone up and take them home. At least kiss them but then he remembered refusing to kiss Coulson and it seemed kind of wrong to make out with random dude in a club so he left sober and unkissed. 

This went on for about three months and it got to be kind of comfortable. The new normal. Steve got dumped by his boyfriend, dated a girl from S.H.I.E.L.D. and then got dumped by her. Nat spent a lot of time in Eastern Europe on missions. Tony nearly got killed a few times. Thor returned and make a mess in London. He was coping. It was all under control until he walked into a briefing with Fury at S.H.I.E.L.D. HQ one day and found Phil Coulson sat at the table. 

He turned his ass around and walked right back out. Stood staring at the closed door for a few seconds and then walked back in and, yeah, he wasn’t seeing things. That was Coulson. Apparently alive and well. 

The other Avengers were all already there, mostly looking confused and surly. Well, other than Nat. She was still by Coulson as was Melinda May. He knew May’d been picked up for a special team, he’d never thought it might somehow be Coulson’s team. Why would he? Coulson was meant to be dead. 

“Alright,” Coulson said, standing up. “Now you’re all here, let me explain.” 

So he explained. Something about being dead for a week and technology and Tahiti and Centipede and a Clairvoyant and Clint honestly didn’t take half of it in, he just stood there by the door and watched Phil talk and tried to decide if he wanted to run and hide more than he wanted to go and do something to Phil, punch him or hug him or shout at him. In the end running won and as soon as the meeting was over he did just that. Ran all the way back to the tower (not literally ran) and into his own rooms and locked the door. 

He didn’t know what he was meant to do with this. Didn’t even know where to start. He’d been alright, but now Coulson was here. Coulson was alive and that was amazing and wonderful and scary and he still wasn’t entirely sure why he hadn’t been trusted to know before but over it all was this panic because he LOVED Coulson but now...now Coulson was here. 

Now it was real. 

He had to go and throw up. When he got back Nat was, predictably, curled up on his couch with a book. 

“I thought you’d be more pleased,” she said, not looking up.

“I am pleased,” he said, stepping past her to get a glass of water. She let it hang while he rinsed his mouth and thought. He was pleased. It was all just too much and when he got overwhelmed he either fought or ran so it was definitely better that he ran. 

“You should go talk to him,” Nat said. 

“I will,” he said, not at all sure he would. “I just need to think first.” 

“I knew you weren’t listening in the meeting,” she said with a sigh. “He’s got a team now. They’re heading out tomorrow morning. They’ll be back but I know you, if you don’t do it now you’ll just worry about it. Especially since we don’t know when he’ll be back. Not to mention, I’m not trying to be fatalistic or anything but he could die again, Clint. What we do isn’t safe. How many people get second chances?” 

“I need to think,” Clint insisted, staring at his sink like it held the answer to all his problems. “What do you want me to do? Just walk in there and confess my love?” 

“Why not?” 

Because he didn’t want to be weak. He didn’t want Coulson to laugh at him. He wasn’t some stupid little queer…

He was doing it again. 

“I’m a mess,” he said. “I’d fuck up if I talked to him now.” 

“If Coulson only talked to you when you weren’t a mess you’d never speak at all. If you’re waiting for this to magically all become easy then I have to tell you, Clint, it isn’t going to happen. You need to go and talk to him and it’s going to suck but you have to do it because he’s worth it.” 

He knew she was right. Thinking space had never helped him before, he only got more tangled up. He worked best when thinking and acting fast and below the screaming fear, when he just thought about Coulson, all he wanted was to go to the other man. And maybe he’d make a mess of everything but at least he’d have tried. 

“Fuck, you’re right,” he sighed, putting his glass down. “I hate when you’re right.” 

“Life is tough,” she said with a shrug. “Now go talk to him before it’s too late.” 

***

Once he decided to go talk to Coulson, the rest somehow became easier. Sure, he had no damn idea what he was going to say but he was going to go and say something. He was going to talk to Coulson, who was not dead. 

It didn’t take long for the little niggle of doubt to take root. The voice that said “maybe you only wanted him because you couldn’t have him”. He ignored it. Maybe he’d have time for that shit later, just not now. 

He drove himself out to the airfield where the bus was parked. Apparently they were already expecting him and they just let him in and by the time he got to the plane the back ramp was down and Coulson was walking down to meet him. 

Clint took the time to park carefully and kill his engine before getting out of the car. It was difficult, now that Coulson was here he just wanted to be close but he did it. 

“Hey,” Coulson said, standing a little awkwardly at the bottom of the ramp. “Natasha said you might come. I wasn’t so sure after how you walked out this afternoon.” 

“Sorry,” Clint said, shoving his hands in his pockets. They felt weirdly like they were trembling and he still wasn’t sure he trusted himself not to punch or hug Coulson, neither of which would be appropriate. “I just...it was all a little too much…” 

“I get it,” Coulson said with a sad smile. “I should have told you all I was back…” 

Clint couldn’t help but laugh at that and Coulson stopped. It was all so ridiculous. It went without saying that Coulson should have told them and things should have been different but he hadn’t and he didn’t want to talk about that, not right now. 

“You got somewhere private up there we can talk?” he asked instead. Coulson seemed thrown for a second but then he nodded, leading Clint into the bus. They had to go up through a lounge where a few people he didn’t recognise were sat playing cards. They gave him a weird look and he tried not to look at them. Not to think about how Coulson had a new team now. 

Coulson’s new office wasn’t much like his last office. Clint hated it already. 

“Alright,” Coulson said, leaning against his desk. “Talk to me.” 

It was so familiar Clint could have cried. Or laughed. He did force himself to sit down on one of the chairs in front of the desk. It gave Coulson the height advantage but Clint felt more stable sitting down, less like he might bolt out the door and not do this thing after all. 

“Life’s pretty weird now sir,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “Did you know we all live in Stark Tower now?” 

“Fury mentioned it,” Coulson said, inclining his head a little. 

“It’s really weird. I mean, I’m nobody and I eat my breakfast with Tony Stark and Captain America.” 

“You’re not nobody,” Coulson said, a little too quickly, but Clint waved him off. Really not the point here. 

“I know, I’m an Avenger. It’s good, being in the team.” 

“I’m glad,” Coulson said, something relaxing in his shoulders. “When I put you forward for the project I knew it’d be good for you.” 

Clint had known Coulson had been the one to put him forward for the Avengers, he hadn’t known there was any kind of thought for him as a person in there. You put together the team that would be best for the job but Coulson almost made it sound like he’d picked Clint because it’d be good for him. Like he cared. 

Nat had told him Coulson loved him back. She’d insisted on it and it’d been easy to believe when all he had was Coulson’s ghost. Less easy now with the man leaning unsteadily on the desk in front of him. Was it really better to know for sure and maybe have the answer be no than to live with the Coulson in his head who always said yes? 

He wasn’t sure but he knew not talking was the coward’s way out and he wasn’t a coward. 

“There’s something I need to tell you, actually,” Clint said. He shifted in his chair, bringing his knees up to his chest and Coulson seemed to sense that this was important, moving to sit in the other chair and pulling it round so they could look at each other. So he was close enough that Clint could reach out and touch if he wanted. 

“It’s kind of weird,” he warned. “Though, hell, you probably won’t think it’s a big deal. But nobody knows other than Nat. I needed to tell you, though. Do you read Steve’s Twitter?” 

“Yes,” Coulson admitted, a slight flush colouring his cheeks and damn but Clint wanted to reach out and touch. 

“So you saw when he came out?” 

“Yes, I did,” Coulson said, smiling that weird little half smile of his. Clint spared a thought for what Coulson had thought when he’d read that. If he’d wanted to try something with Steve. He couldn’t think about that right now though and he pushed it down ruthlessly. 

“Well, it kind of set some things in motion. Nat shouted at me until I did some thinking and, basically, I’m maybe a little bit gay.” 

He managed to say it, though it was kind of muffled into his knees. He knew he was being ridiculous. There were a lot of people in his life who might have rejected him for what he’d just said but Coulson wasn’t one of them. Coulson wouldn’t turn him away. 

He looked up when Coulson touched his hand. It was a gentle touch, almost like he expected Clint to jerk away and, yeah, maybe not too long ago Clint would have. But here, now, he felt like his heart was lying on the floor and it was all he could do to turn his hand over and cling to Coulson for dear life. 

“Thank you for telling me,” Coulson said, sincerely. “In the interest of full disclosure I should tell you that I’m more than a little bit gay myself, I’m never going to judge you for that.” 

“I’m being ridiculous,” Clint grumbled, though he couldn’t bring himself to let go of Coulson’s hand. 

“You’re not,” Coulson insisted. “Coming out is pretty damn scary and I understand that it’s harder for you than most people. I’m glad you chose to tell me. If there’s anything I can do to help…” 

“Actually, there kind of is,” Clint said, suddenly in a rush to get the words out. “I...I get that I’m kind of a mess but you were gone and it made me realise how much I miss you. I...I think that maybe I’m a bit in love with you and don’t worry, I get that you wouldn’t want me because, seriously, I’m just a bag of issues and I need to sort my shit out but I’ve never even kissed a guy before and if you want I’d really like my first to be you.” 

He didn’t dare look up. Didn’t dare see the rejection on Coulson’s face. He’d been stupid to ask but it’d just sprung into his head. It was on the tip of his tongue to take it back when Coulson’s finger brushed the underside of his chin. He let Coulson turn his head and then the other man was there and kissing him. 

It was weird at first, awkward. The angle was all wrong but with a little gentle coaxing he managed to unwrap himself a little, lean forward and then it was easier. Coulson kept it light at first, almost sweet, and Clint just let him lead. Coulson was the one who knew what he was doing here, after all. He let Coulson tilt his head back, let Coulson bite on his bottom lip. He kept his eyes shut, opened his mouth, just gave in to it. 

It was fucking brilliant. He’d kissed a lot of women and this wasn’t magically different, lips were lips, but Coulson was good at this shit and somehow it was easier to just let go and give over control of it all when it was a man. Or maybe that was just because it was Coulson. Phil. The man had his tongue in Clint’s mouth, he could be Phil. 

Phil pulled back eventually. He seemed almost reluctant to go and Clint was definitely reluctant to let him. They should have been doing that for years and it’s possible he said that out loud because Phil gave a dark chuckle before giving Clint one more peck on the lips. 

“I’ll take it that met your expectations for a first kiss.” 

“I don’t know,” Clint said, clutching at Phil’s hand that was somehow still improbably wrapped in his. Kissing, holding hands and talking about his feelings. He’d come a long way. “Maybe you should kiss me again to be sure.” 

“As many times as you want,” Phil said, earnestly and Clint really looked at him then. He didn’t seem freaked out or like he was going to withdraw. He was looking at Clint like Clint was something wonderful. Something to be treasured. 

“Can I ask you something?” Phil asked and Clint could only nod. “When I’m next in New York, can I take you out on a date?” 

“You don’t want to do that,” Clint said instantly. “Weren’t you listening? I’m a mess.” 

“You’ve always been a mess,” Phil said with a weird little smile. “And I’ve always wanted to take you out. It wouldn’t be anything big, nothing high profile. We could maybe see a movie and then grab a meal, you probably know some good places near the tower. Nobody but us would have to know it was a date.” 

Clint let himself think about it. He thought about going to see a movie with Phil. He thought about sitting next to him in the dark with their shoulders brushing. He thought about maybe sneakily holding hands again. He thought about taking Phil somewhere good to eat. Talking over the food. Walking home together afterwards. He wanted it. He wanted it so badly. He knew it was going to go wrong, going to fall apart. Phil would realise how broken he was and how he could do better but, well, he had to try. 

“I’ll go out with you,” he said. “But only if you kiss me again.” 

“That I can do,” Phil said, and the smile this time was downright evil.


	4. Epilogue

“I’m not normally this ridiculous,” he said to his reflection. The reflection had no comment but across the room Natasha snorted. She was sprawled across his bed with a magazine. She was meant to be helping him get ready for his date but she was kind of failing at that. 

Helping him get ready for his date. Because he was going on a date. With Phil Coulson. A date with Phil Coulson. 

It was nearly a month since their kiss on the bus but Clint felt like he still hadn’t gotten his head around it. After they’d done kissing that night they’d talked a lot. Phil had convinced him to see a therapist, someone outside S.H.I.E.L.D. and he’d hated the idea but it’d helped. Even if only because it gave him someone to talk to who’d actually respond unlike Nat. Not that Nat didn’t have her place, he kind of needed her to kick his ass but sometimes he just needed someone to tell him if things were normal and okay and she didn’t have any more idea about that than he did. 

He’d talked to Phil a lot too. They skyped whenever they could and it felt easier. He felt...safer? More secure in their relationship at least. Phil valued his opinion. Phil wanted to talk to him, even if it was just a sleepy goodnight before bed. Phil wanted to spend time with him. He was still shocked by that sometimes. 

So, all in all, things were going pretty good and they’d be going even better if he’d stop obsessing about his clothing like some damn…like an idiot. He was getting better, he was. 

“You know,” Nat said conversationally. “He’s seen you caked in shit and blood and he still wants you. He isn’t going to care which shade of purple your t-shirt is.” 

“Shut up,” he snapped, refusing to meet her eye. He knew this was stupid but...but Phil. He wanted to look nice for Phil was all. He wanted Phil to want him. Wanted this to work so badly. 

The doorbell rang. 

Clint nearly jumped out of his skin. Phil wasn’t due to be here for another half an hour so it had to be someone else. One of the other Avengers? He really hoped it wasn’t an emergency. 

He opened the door to find Phil. Phil who looked very alive and wonderful and god but Clint had missed him. 

“Hey,” Phil said, stepping through the door without waiting for an invitation. “Nat texted me to say you were panicking so I thought I’d come a little early.” 

“Nat, you traitor,” he shouted. Nat just wandered out of the bedroom, a sly smile on her face and the magazine gone to wherever she kept the damn things. He could never find them but she never seemed to be carrying one with her. 

“You can thank me later,” she said. “Enjoy your evening.” 

“Like hell,” Clint grumbled but then she was gone and he was alone with a bemused looking Phil. For a second Clint didn’t know what to do with himself. Should he invite Phil to sit down? Should they shake hands? Hug? Kiss? He didn’t know. Phil solved it for him by stepping close, taking Clint’s hand and giving him the softest hello kiss he’d ever given him. 

“We don’t have to go out if you don’t want,” he said, lacing their fingers together. “We could just stay in.” 

It was tempting. Oh so tempting. They could hide here. Maybe put a movie in to ignore. It was much more the class of date he was used to. The one where there were only a few dates total and they were mostly there so they could say they were dating and not just fucking. He knew Phil’s body a little, the sex weirdly wasn’t the scary bit. 

He knew what that meant. The best way to face your fears was head on, after all. 

“I want to go out,” he said, leaning forward to rest his forehead against Phil’s. “I’ve never been on a date with a guy, I think it’s about time. Hell, I’ve not been on that many dates with women. I’m not the relationship type but this? This is something I want to do right.” 

“I’m glad,” Phil said, tilting his head forward so they were kissing again and, yeah, Clint was still kind of scared but he wouldn't change this for the world. 

“Hey,” he said against Phil’s lips. “Since you’re here, this is something I want to do, actually.” 

“Oh yeah?” Phil said, his hand coming up to rest on Clint’s hip. 

“Not that,” Clint grumbled, pulling away a little. “I want you to come up to the lounge with me and say hi to everyone. I meant it when I said I wanted to do this right, Phil. I don’t want it to be a secret. I mean, don’t take out an ad in the paper or anything but I trust these people. I want them to know.” 

“Have you even told them you’re not straight?” Phil asked with a raised eyebrow. Clint shook his head. 

“Couldn't find the words. I do better with actions.” 

“And I used to think there was no way you’d ever be lost for words,” Phil said and Clint couldn’t help laughing. “Alright, come on. Let’s go out you and then see a movie.” 

And that’s more or less how it happened.


End file.
